Most Rare Vision
by lily-bug
Summary: 100% AU! Magic? Mistaken identity? Fairies? True love? And . . . donkey lovin’? BTVS meets Shakespeare’s A Midsummer Night’s Dream!
1. This Old Moon Wains

Disclaimer: I own nothing. The geniuses William Shakespeare and Joss Whedon wrote A Midsummer Night's Dream and Buffy the Vampire Slayer respectively. Fun! I hate not owning anything. All I have is crap!  
  
  
  
Rating: PG-13- Naughtiness by the Bard  
  
Summary: 100% AU! Magic? Mistaken identity? Fairies? True love? And . . . donkey lovin'? BTVS meets Shakespeare's A Midsummer Night's Dream!  
  
Author's Notes: This is my favorite Shakespeare play, so I decided to bring it to the BTVS fans out there. Each chapter will be a scene from the play, or half a scene. It's set in modern day Sunnydale, with characters from the show. I love AU's and I hope you enjoy this one! Kisses for all!  
  
  
  
  
  
Chapter One- This Old Moon Wanes  
  
As he looked over his land from the balcony, Rupert Giles smiled contently. The bright July sun shone high above in the sky, warming the ground. Lush grass spread across the acreage, perfectly watered and cut. Far off in the distance, the large fountain spurted like a geyser. All he could see for a distance belonged to him.  
  
He had come a long way from the angry teenager living in the slums of London. At the age of sixteen, to offend his parents and the authorities, he started a garage punk band, Sire. Surprisingly, the group had talent, became a smash, and went from obscurity to fame within years. Unlike his band-mates, who spent their money on drugs and women, Giles invested it in a music production company, aptly named Sire Records. Now, at forty-eight, he was a multi-billionaire.  
  
Giles was happy. Owning a large mansion in the Las Angeles suburb of Sunnydale was great. Owning Sire Records, with more bands on the charts than any other production company, was incredible. But, if that wasn't enough . . .  
  
Small arms came up from behind him, rapping around his neck in a hug. Giles turned and stared into the eyes of Jenny Calendar, his fiancée. Smiling, she gave him a quick kiss on the nose.  
  
"Hello, darling," he whispered, turning to hold her.  
  
"Hey yourself." Jenny stood on her toes, pulling him closer to kiss.  
  
Jenny was the marketing head for Sire Records. Although their first meeting had been a disastrous one, the two became friends. Soon, the friendship became love, and Giles found himself proposing to the younger woman years later.  
  
Turning his attention back to the land, Giles felt Jenny take his hand. "Four days," he whispered.  
  
The brunette laughed. "You sure are impatient!"  
  
"Sorry," he sighed, "It's just so dreadfully dull waiting. All the planning and headaches for a silly party."  
  
"Party?! It's our wedding!" Jenny stepped away, crossing her arms over her chest.  
  
But when Giles winked at her, she came back to him. "Well, the four days will go by quickly, and then we're off to Paris, just you and I. Husband and Wife."  
  
Sighing, Jenny leaned her head on Giles' shoulder. There was a small rumor buzzing around that she was only marring the older billionaire for his money. It didn't matter to the couple. She knew, and he knew, that there was only love involved.  
  
The bliss was interrupted when Phillip, Giles' butler, walked onto the balcony.  
  
"Mr. Giles, Mr. Summers is in your office. He wishes to speak with you immediately."  
  
"Thank you, Phillip." As he went back in the house, Giles rolled his eyes. "Wonder what the old goat wants now?"  
  
"Go see," urged Jenny, playfully punching him on the arm, "Or he'll come down here to whine."  
  
"Yes, dear." Giles gave her a quick kiss, then ran into the house.  
  
*What's the problem now?*  
  
^^^^^^^^^^  
  
Leaning back in his leather chair, Giles crossed his arms. Hank Summers, his vice-president, was pacing around the room, muttering obscenities. Three other people, apparently with Hank, sat in the office. Two were college age boys; one scowling while the other looked on smugly. The third, Hank's teenage daughter Buffy, sat between the two, face streaked with tears.  
  
"I think," Giles spoke up, "That you need to start from the beginning, Hank."  
  
"Well Rupert," the man fumed, "I can't explain how angry I am!"  
  
"You're doing a pretty good job," muttered the scowling boy, running a hand through his bleached hair.  
  
Hank ignored the boy. "I've been trying to figure this out, and have decided to get your advice." Sitting in the chair next to the smug boy, Hank began. "You assigned me to oversee talent scouting in Europe for half a year, and my flight is scheduled in four days. When I told Buffy we would be leaving," he pointed at his daughter; "She informed me that she wouldn't be coming with me. She wants to talk you into making me stay."  
  
"Really?" Giles smiled warmly at the teenage girl. She answered with a small nod. "Why would that be, Buffy?"  
  
"Because," she sniffled, "This whole trip is a dumb conspiracy."  
  
"What?"  
  
"Daddy wants to hook me up with Angel." As she said the words, new tears sprouted.  
  
Seeing the look of confusion on his boss' face, Hank spoke up.  
  
"This is Angel O'Conner," he pointed at the smug brunette boy. "Angel is my college intern, and he will be joining us on the trip." Sighing, Hank stood up. "Angel proposed to Buffy a few days ago, and when she's old enough, he has my permission to marry her. But, Buffy refused. I think the trip might help to change her mind." Hank chuckled to himself. "It will certainly get rid of a few distractions."  
  
Raising an eyebrow, Giles sat up. "Distractions?"  
  
"This distraction," Hank came up behind the scowling bleached blond, clamping him on the shoulder. "William Trench, or as he likes to be called, Spike." Removing his hands, Hank went back to his seat. "Buffy says she loves him, and he also claims he does. They've been together for a year, and I've gone along without complaints. But I've had enough, and I want it to end!"  
  
Giles examined the two. Angel was a tall, broad shouldered young man. Wearing a dark blue Polo shirt and khakis, he looked like a younger Hank. *Probably the reason Hank prefers him.* Although the boy was handsome, it was his arrogance that put Giles off.  
  
Then there was the other boy, Spike. Not as tall or broad as Angel, Spike made up for it with his attitude. It was almost animal-like. Slouched in the chair, clad entirely in black, he shot murderous glances at Angel. Then Giles saw something miraculous. Buffy quickly glanced over at Spike, and the young man's facial features softened, giving the girl a sad smile.  
  
Remembering the pains of youthful love, Giles smiled despite himself. But, as he looked down at the files spread across his desk, the feeling passed.  
  
"Buffy," he started, turning his attention to the young girl, "What do you have to say?"  
  
Sitting up straight, she laced her fingers in her lap. "Mr. Giles, I know I'm young. I graduated a month ago, and I'm not even eighteen. I should probably do what my daddy says. But, I can't do this!"  
  
Glancing at Angel, she frowned. "Angel's a really nice guy, and I'm sure he'd make some girl really happy, but I don't love him. I won't ever be able to."  
  
Then, she turned to Spike. "I'm in love with Spike, and I know he loves me back. It's not an act. Daddy hopes this trip will make me forget, but it won't! And what if I never come back? And what if . . ." her voice broke as she sank down crying. Indiscreetly, Spike comforted her.  
  
When she had calmed down, Giles gave his decision. "Buffy, you said you love Spike, and there's no question in my mind about your feelings for each other." He stopped, frowning. "But you also mentioned your age. You are only seventeen, and because you are that young, you must follow your father's wishes. When Hank goes to Europe, you must go too."  
  
Seeing two lives shatter before him, and two others build with confidence, Giles spoke up again. "But, I would like to say something private to you, Hank and Angel. We must discuss something." As he looked up, something in the doorway caught his eye.  
  
Jenny stood by the door, arms crossed, a disheartened expression on her face. She had heard the entire thing.  
  
"Jenny . . ." started the man, but she left, quickly stomping through the hallway. "Hell! Um . . . come along, Hank and Angel, let's let the two have some time alone."  
  
Standing, beckoning the two to follow, Giles left Spike and Buffy in his office. So they could properly say goodbye. 


	2. Keep Promise

Disclaimer: I own nothing. The geniuses William Shakespeare and Joss Whedon wrote A Midsummer Night's Dream and Buffy the Vampire Slayer respectively. Fun! I hate not owning anything. All I have is crap!  
  
  
  
Rating: PG-13- Naughtiness by the Bard  
  
Summary: 100% AU! Magic? Mistaken identity? Fairies? True love? And . . . donkey lovin'? BTVS meets Shakespeare's A Midsummer Night's Dream!  
  
Author's Notes: Again, I didn't have time to change the things above. I promise my disclaimers will get better. I posted this really late. And I am quite tired. School sucks bad! Grrrr! Thank you all for your wonderful reviews. It makes my blackened heart swell to the size of a pea. I know you probably thought that Spike and Buffy would make a good Demetrius and Helena, but I love them so much as a couple that it would betray my ideals. Also, I'm not a huge Angel fan, so he was perfect as Demetrius (why? Past production of Midsummer's I was in had a Demetrius I despised.) And as for the other characters, you find out who Helena is today. As for Bottom, Oberon, Puck, and Titania: Just wait! Tee hee hee, I'm evil with the cliffhangers. Just be warned, not everyone will be as they seem.  
  
  
  
  
  
Chapter Two- Keep Promise  
  
For what seemed an eternity, the two young sweethearts sat in the silence of Giles' office, neither looking at nor speaking to each other.  
  
The silence pressed around Spike like a heavy blanket, smothering all rational thought. He could only replay the scene in his head. Buffy's father and the moron Angel getting what they wished, while their supposed ally, Mr. Giles, taking the enemy's side. It was all too much.  
  
*I'm going to go bloody insane!*  
  
His fingers itched. He needed to do something. Something to get rid of all the tension. Something extreme. Something . . .  
  
A glinting caught his eye. On Mr. Giles' desk sat a crystal picture frame, a snapshot of the man and his fiancée grinning happily. Taunting him.  
  
With a growl, he stood and picked the photo up, then sent it flying against the wall, smirking when the crystal shattered on impact.  
  
But his brief satisfaction ended when he heard a whimper coming from the chair on his right.  
  
It was Buffy, her face buried into her hands, sobbing heavily.  
  
Calming down, he kneeled before the girl, pulling her hands away from her face.  
  
"Hey," he purred, bringing his fingers up to rub her cheek, "'S wrong pet?"  
  
"I wonder," she sniffled bitterly, tears falling like raindrops.  
  
With a sad grin, he sat back in his chair, then pulled her with him. Sitting on his lap, Buffy rapped her arms around his neck, then began to sob into his chest.  
  
"Please don't cry," whispered Spike, slowly stroking her long, blonde hair. "Things aren't going the way we planned. Happens all the time. You'll go on this trip with your father, but you'll come back, and everything-"  
  
"NO!" Pulling away, she wiped the tears from her cheek. "Don't you see what's happening! If I go with my father, I will NEVER be able to say no to him again! He controls everything I do! I'm not strong enough . . ."  
  
"Buffy, you are."  
  
"I'm not! Us being together is the one thing I've done without Daddy's permission." Turning her attention away from the bleached blond, she stood to pick up the pieces of shattered crystal. "Daddy knows what he's doing," she sighed, carefully trying not to cut herself, "He'll find some way to keep us in Europe. Then, he'll get Angel to propose again. And I won't be able to say no." A small drop of water fell from her eyes, landing on the broken pile of translucent glass. The broken pile of her life.  
  
As she crouched in the corner, eyes red from weeping, hair mussed, Spike concluded he had never seen a more beautiful woman. It was always that way with him. He'd look at her, and fall in love all over again.  
  
*Great, I've turned into a Nancy-boy poof!*  
  
Born and raised in London, Spike transferred to attend college in Sunnydale. His mother had lived in the small California suburb since she divorced from his father. After he graduated, she called him with an offer: she'd pay for his schooling, if he went to the college near her. It was an easy decision, but not one he made happily. A chance meeting at a party changed his attitude.  
  
At the first frat party of the year he was causally observing the dancing, when his eyes fell upon a tiny blonde girl dancing with her friends. The way she moved, the way her eyes lit up when she laughed, the aura she gave off, hypnotized the guy. Spike had never believed in love at first sight until that day. Soon, he found himself pulled to the girl, asking her for a dance. And as they swayed to the slow rhythm, he knew he couldn't let go. Ever.  
  
He hadn't. For the next year, he and Buffy stayed a couple. Sure, it wasn't a perfect relationship. She was a senior in high school when they met. The fact that Hank hated his guts didn't help. But they weathered the storms. He knew that she was the love of his life, and he could not live without her.  
  
Trying to find some hole in their situation, Spike racked his brain as Buffy interchanged sweeping and crying.  
  
Suddenly, it came to him. He knew what to do.  
  
But before he could say anything, he heard footsteps coming from the hallway. Giles, Hank, and Angel returning from their secret meeting.  
  
"Luv!" He sat beside her, speaking in a rushed whisper. "I have a plan, but I need to figure the details out. Sneak out around four and meet me at Athens' Café."  
  
She opened her mouth to respond, but the double doors leading to the office flew open.  
  
"Buffy, time to go!" Hank commanded. "Say goodbye to Mr. Trench!"  
  
Taking a quick glimpse at Spike, she confirmed the appointment. "Goodbye," she whispered as she stood. Joining Hank and Angel, the three took off.  
  
Spike quickly followed, mumbling a quick goodbye to Giles.  
  
*Right, showtime.*  
  
^^^^^^^^^^  
  
"Double nonfat latte, extra foam."  
  
Hurriedly setting down the cup of coffee, the waitress rushed off to deliver another order. As she had done so, a bit of the drink had spilled out, pooling on the small table.  
  
"Wonderful," Drusilla Claire whispered, pulling a bunch of napkins from the dispenser, then wadding the paper up to clean up the puddle. In an epiphany, she made a conclusion: her life was one big mess.  
  
*Here I sit, drowning away my sorrows with caffeine, over some stupid guy who doesn't love me. Some dumb, stupid, handsome, funny, wonderful guy I love with every beat of poor, broken heart . . .*  
  
The tears threatened to fall again, just as they had done for the past few months. With a woeful groan, she thudded her forehead on the table, then repeated the action again and again.  
  
"Dru, stop that!" a voice from behind her cried, "You're gonna make your head all blue and lumpy!"  
  
Looking up, the brunette found a pair of green eyes staring back at her.  
  
"Afternoon Buffy," Dru moaned.  
  
With an amused grin, her best friend since childhood sat down in the seat across from her. Another nameless waitress ran up to take the blonde's order.  
  
"What are you doing here all happy-like?" Buffy sarcastically asked.  
  
"Wallowing in my own pity? You?"  
  
The smile from her face faded. "Spike told me to meet him here. He's got something planned."  
  
"So I take it the meeting with Mr. Giles didn't work out." Dru laughed bitterly, taking a sip of her coffee.  
  
"Yeah, he won't change his mind."  
  
Confused, Dru looked up. "Angel or Mr. Giles?"  
  
"Mr. Giles." Watching as her coffee was placed before her, Buffy changed her answer. "Actually, both I guess. Angel won't . . ."  
  
She stopped when she saw the hurt look form on her friend's face. Dru wasn't ready to hear the sorted details of her ex-boyfriend's pursuits.  
  
Angel and Drusilla had been going out since her freshman year in high school, he a year older. It was the most perfect relationship the student body had seen in years. The two were loving, considerate, and tender with each other.  
  
But it all came crashing down after Angel graduated, and he took an internship at Sire Records. He realized that Hank Summers, Vice President of the corporation, was the father of Dru's best friend. As if someone had turned off a light switch, he broke off their relationship, hoping to pursue a more "valued" love interest.  
  
"Sorry," Buffy mumbled, taking a sudden interest in her coffee cup.  
  
Shaking her head, Dru turned away. It was then she saw Buffy's boyfriend enter the café.  
  
"Hey Dru," Spike greeted, pecking the girl friendly on the cheek. Seating himself, he gave Buffy a deeper kiss.  
  
"So what is it? What'd you have to figure out?" Buffy blurted out.  
  
Looking around the café uncomfortably, Spike leaned in. "Shouldn't we go someplace more . . ." he stole a glance at Dru, "Private?"  
  
"Whatever you have to say, you can say in front of Dru!" The blonde glared firmly at her boyfriend.  
  
Apologizing with his eyes, Spike continued. "I know this is a stupid idea, and it prolly won't work, but I say we give it a go. Around midnight tomorrow, meet me in Stratford forest by the cave. Pack a few items. I've got a ride waiting for us on the other side, my friend Clem. He's gonna drive us to Vegas, get us settled so's when you turn eighteen we can get . . . married."  
  
Both of the girls felt their jaws drop.  
  
"What?" Buffy choked out.  
  
He shrugged as he stood. "Always knew I was gonna do it. Might as well be before your git of a father can mess it up."  
  
Leaping up, Buffy kissed him squarely on the mouth, pulling him close. Dru averted her eyes, equally sickened and depressed by the sight.  
  
"OH GOD!" She shrieked, not caring at the scene she was causing.  
  
Spike laughed. "Calm down luv!" Turning his head, he saw the time on the wall clock. "Damn! I gotta go get things arranged with Clem."  
  
Buffy sat back down, eyes glazed over with joy. "So, tomorrow then?" she sighed dreamily.  
  
Without a word, Spike came back in for another kiss, pulling at her lower lip. "You bet," he purred, pulling away. "Dru," he acknowledged the brunette, then jogged out of the café.  
  
The blonde leaned in her chair, planning what to take in her mind. "God, I've got so much to do," she sighed. But, she dropped it all when she remembered Dru. "Oh honey," Buffy stood, pulling Dru up in a hug. In the embrace, Dru couldn't help but feel a million emotions: joy, sadness, bitterness . . .  
  
"Sorry I have to do this, but it's the only way," Buffy began to sob. "I'll try to call you all the time, once we find a place! And, you have to come visit us!"  
  
Feeling the water fall down her own face, Dru smiled. "There's no question!"  
  
Buffy brushed the tears away. "I've got to go! Hope that we don't get caught!" Grabbing her purse, she began to leave. "Oh," she rushed back, "You know what me leaving means? Angel will over me so quickly, it'll send your head spinning!" Giving her friend a kiss, she raced out of the café.  
  
*Alone again.* Sighing, Dru returned back to her coffee, her only friend at the moment.  
  
*Everyone loves Buffy! It's not fair! I know I'm just as pretty and smart as Buffy, but why the hell does she get whatever she wants? She gets chased after, has thousands of guys fall for her, has my one true love fall for her! God, when Angel hears about this . . .*  
  
She stopped.  
  
Angel didn't know about the plan, and probably wouldn't know until it was to late.  
  
*But if I told him, he'd chase after them! And I'll follow him!*  
  
Throwing a tip on the table, Dru strolled pensively out of Athens' Café.  
  
*And maybe, just maybe, the magic of the forest will bring him back to me.* 


	3. Play in Our Interlude

Disclaimer: There are sometimes when I wish a large semi-truck would come screaming through my house, killing the reasons for my misery. And as of this moment, it's staring me in the face, wearing a ridiculous white leisure suit. "I just can't believe your standing in my living room, Anyanka," I mutter, taking a long swig of eggnog. She grins at me stupidly. "Yeah, I'm excited to be here too, Lily," she yells, patting me roughly on the back. "It's a shame the older ones couldn't come," she continues, while managing to break a fifty-year old Christmas decoration, "We've got the daughter in the clinic, getting' cured off the Wild Turkey, and the son, bless his soul, is preparin' for his career." "College?" "Carnival." "You must be proud," I sigh, forcing a smile to appear on my face. "Yeah, I told him 'Son, you can't live up to your Aunt Lily's profession of writin' fan fiction based on Joss Whedon's Buffy the Vampire Slayer or William Shakespeare's A Midsummer Night's dream, so take what you can get.' So, he's spreading pitch dust on the tilt-a-whirl, but is hopin' to bark for the yak woman next summer." Again, I thank god for the gift of hard liquor.  
  
  
  
Rating: PG-13- Naughtiness by the Bard  
  
Summary: 100% AU! Magic? Mistaken identity? Fairies? True love? And . . . donkey lovin'? BTVS meets Shakespeare's A Midsummer Night's Dream!  
  
Author's Notes: I don't know what's going on? You all like this story? Weird! *Laughs* I'm just kidding. I love this story too. Almost as much as I love my other two works of fiction (shameless self-promotion). As I mentioned in my other WIP story, I'm going to update every other story, so it'll be a bit slower on the finishing front. But Christmas break is coming, so I'll be able to write more often. Here, we get to meet my version of Shakespeare's troupe of actors. As I said before, not everyone is who they seem (duh-duh-duh!). After the next update, I'll explain whom everyone represents for those of you who have never read the play. Anyway, please like this shorter chapter, or I'll find you and make you! (Again, kidding). Hugs and kisses and a swift kick in the crotch.  
  
PS: For those of you who aren't familiar with my writing, I like making weird disclaimers based off of movies, TV episodes, songs, and occurrences in my daily life. The one up above was taken from the contemporary movie classic, National Lampoon's A Christmas Vacation. Cousin Eddie is the best! And Anyanka is my sister, Anyanka Faith. She's appears in many of my weird disclaimers, and is one of my main source of inspiration and a kind of muse for me (even if she thinks punk music sucks). Um . . . that's about it.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Chapter Three- Play in Our Interlude  
  
Whenever something unusual occurred at the University of Sunnydale campus, a crowd would always be expected. Not much happened in the sleepy suburb, so a disturbance was always welcome.  
  
Students crowded into the small lounge of Adams Hall, watching and whispering as a small group busily set up instrument equipment.  
  
But Daniel "Oz" Osbourne ignored the commotion. The blue haired boy had been in bands since the age of fourteen, and was used to always having an audience. Instead, he chose to focus on the large amplifier, struggled to put in place.  
  
With a loud grunt, he slowly set the amplifier on the ground, then went about plugging in his guitar.  
  
"Hey," a girl next to him sarcastically yelled, "When you're done with your display of masculinity, could ya clean up your crap?"  
  
The lead guitarist looked to his left. Anya Jenkins, lead vocalist of their band 'The Groundlings', held up a large knot of extension cords, smiling when Oz groaned at the web of cables.  
  
"Help me out Awn, please!" he pleaded, not wanting to untangle the mess.  
  
She shook her head. "Nope, you made it quite clear early on that we weren't allowed to touch your crap!" With saucy grin, she threw the cords on the ground. Pulling out a magazine, she sprawled out on the makeshift stage.  
  
Crouching down, he stared helplessly at the tangled wires.  
  
Someone came up behind him. "Lemme help you out," offered drummer Riley Finn, sitting beside his friend. Oz shot a look of gratitude at the good- natured boy from Iowa. Not a few minutes later, the cords were separated.  
  
Before anything else could happen, Oz spotted their manager, Wesley Price, rushing to the band.  
  
"Great. Here comes Mr. Anal-Retentive," muttered rhythm guitarist Devon Benson. The others on stage chuckled.  
  
"Alright," Wesley rubbed his hands excitedly together, "You are all probably wondering why I called this practice!"  
  
"Because we wonderfully and truly . . . SUCK?" offered Anya, receiving a few laughs.  
  
Ignoring the comment, Wesley continued. "Actually, I have an exciting announcement. We have just been . . ." He stared at the band. "Where exactly is Miss Holden?" he asked, inquiring the whereabouts of the bassist.  
  
"Who, Faith?" asked Riley. "She got a case of the munchies, and went to get some burgers."  
  
" . . . And I'm back!" yelled the brunette bassist as she pushed through the crowd. Seating herself on stage, she passed around the burger orders to her band mates.  
  
"Thank you very much for showing up, Miss Holden. May I continue?" Faith mockingly nodded, as their manager became irritated. "As I was saying, I have an exciting announcement that deals with the future of this band."  
  
The man paused dramatically, waiting as they all leaned forward.  
  
"What exactly is that?" Oz asked, raising an eyebrow.  
  
"Apparently, someone out there heard our demo tape, because we've just been offered an audition with Rupert Giles, owner of Sire Records."  
  
A silence filled the stage, as onlookers began to whisper to themselves.  
  
"M-mm-Mr. Giles?" repeated Anya, "But he barely auditions anyone!"  
  
Wesley grinned. "Well, he is going to make an exception for you."  
  
Chaos broke out as the band members leapt up, screaming, hugging, crying and dancing.  
  
"So when's the audition?" questioned Devon once the group had settled.  
  
"In two days, which doesn't give us a lot of time to prepare. So I say, let's get on it!" answered Wesley, jumping on stage to help with the set up.  
  
As Oz helped Riley adjust his snare drum, he noticed the large crowd now forming in front of the stage.  
  
"Hey Wesley," he whispered to the manager, "I think you made a mistake."  
  
Defensively, Wesley stepped back. "How did I make a mistake?"  
  
"You announced it in front of our audience. We're not going to have a peaceful rehearsal."  
  
Turning his head, the manager stared into the crowd. They watched the band set up, whispering and occasionally yelling suggestions to the group.  
  
"What exactly should we do?" he asked.  
  
An idea hit Oz. "We could have an acoustic rehearsal tomorrow night in Stratford forest. It'll be quiet if no one else knows about it, and we'll be able to center ourselves for preparation."  
  
Laughing, the man acted as if he had the idea. "That's a wonderful suggestion," he replied in a condescending tone. Turning, he addressed the band. "Tomorrow-"  
  
"NO!" Oz whispered venomously, "Tell them later, in private!"  
  
Getting the meaning, Wesley nodded, then turned to help Devon set his amp up.  
  
Oz chuckled to himself. *Thank God the man's a genius with publicity, because he's a moron when it comes to human actions.* 


	4. Ill Met By Moonlight

Disclaimer: "So Lily, how's your fabulous life?" asks Carl, the smug bastard, clearly focusing on his stupid Nutri-bird. "My life," I laugh, not wanting to give them all the satisfaction of hearing my troubles, "My life, my little life." I turn to my sister Anyanka, smiling for some weird reason. "You wanna tell them, Anya?" She smiles as she begins, "Oh, well she was just fabulously fired from her job!" My mouth drops. How could she know this? "Yeah, her boss got tired of her spending all her time writing fan fiction based on Joss Whedon's Buffy the Vampire Slayer and William Shakespeare's Midsummer Night's Dream, so he up and canned her!" "Is there anything else?" I ask, clearly surprised. "Oh, well, our niece Kitty is probably, right at this very moment, losing her virginity and getting pregnant. Kinda like . . ." she stops, looking at me. "Kinda like her mom," I finish, laughing while I take a drag off my cigarette. Mom bolts up, crying and running to the kitchen. Dad takes off after her. "Oh god! Look what you did now!" cries my brother Steve, getting up to follow. Great. The holidays are ruined, once again.  
  
  
  
Rating: PG-13- Naughtiness by the Bard  
  
Summary: 100% AU! Magic? Mistaken identity? Fairies? True love? And . . . donkey lovin'? BTVS meets Shakespeare's A Midsummer Night's Dream!  
  
Author's Notes: I apologize for this incredibly long delay. I've had lots of homework and things to do over last week (winter break crap, ick), and then I've had problems creatively with my other story, so I wouldn't work on this one until I fixed the other one. No more creative blocks! Hurrah! Last chapter was kinda short, I know, but it was all I could do. Here's a longer one to make up for the delay and shortness of chapter three. Hope you enjoy my decisions for the remaining characters! Love to you all, and have a happy Christmas/ Kwaanza (SP, I know)/ Ramadan (SP again, don't tell me)/ Yule/ Winter Solstice/ Boxing Day/ Drinking Day (a common holiday for us atheists).  
  
PS: In the spirit of family dysfunction during this time of year, I stole (oops), borrowed my disclaimer from the funny Thanksgiving movie (yeah, I know), Home for the Holidays. It perfectly mirrors how Christmas at my house is spent. Or would be, if I didn't chain myself in my room, passing the time by watching BTVS reruns or Kevin Smith films. Again, have a happy winter holiday time!  
  
  
  
  
  
Chapter Four- Ill Met By Moonlight  
  
Stratford forest lay on the edge of Sunnydale, ten square miles of unspoiled wildlife. Grand trees sprouted from the soil, followed by countless species of flowers and ferns. Five ponds were scattered through the area, prime fishing and relaxation spots. In all its years as a protected environment, at least twenty percent of the area remained unexplored.  
  
Children didn't just play in Stratford forest, they lived in it. They used the immense exposed tree roots as clubhouses, the open fields as playgrounds. Young lovers explored the caves, hoping for a little private time. Families ate picnics on the sandy pond shore.  
  
But at night, when the children were safely tucked away and the world shut down, Stratford forest changed. Ponds danced in the crystal moonlight, while the trees danced with any passing wind. Animals, hidden in the warm daylight, raced through the fields with a rush of energy. Children who played during the day knew the secrets, as did their parents long ago: Nighttime is magic time in the forest.  
  
Far away in the town, the clock struck midnight. It echoed by the trees, into the caves, over the sparkling water. There was movement; little specks of light weaving its way through the calm midsummer air.  
  
One certain speck of light stopped, spun around in a tight circle, and then began to grow. This light took on form, created skin, hair, and clothing. Feet touched earth, and it began to walk. A fairy.  
  
Her name was Tara, head servant to the queen. A wreath of flowers set upon her dark blonde hair, while garlands clung to her gauzy dress. Her wings, yellow as the sun, trailed behind her, occasionally catching on a stray branch or root. She didn't enjoy being in Stratford forest during this time of year, but she had no choice. There was work to be done.  
  
Tara entered a clearing. Showers of shimmering moonlight, reflected by the calm pond water, brightened the area. Holding the hem of her dress, she bent down to the water, cupping her hands for a drink.  
  
"What are you doing here?" a voice asked in the night.  
  
Turning, Tara searched for the voice's owner. It came from the shadows surrounding the pond. "Taking a break before the queen calls for me. Then she'll have me racing through the woods, tending to the flowers, arranging the leaves by her throne. I never get a moments piece."  
  
One shadow moved, coming into the light. Tara could see that it belonged to a sweet-faced young fairy, her long red hair cascading down her shoulders.  
  
"Ah, an attendant for the lovely Queen Cordelia," the fairy laughed, her face beaming with joy.  
  
As the fairy came closer, Tara began to notice odd things about her. Instead of the long gown traditionally worn by the fairies, she wore long pants dyed to match her hair. Her tank top was made from material that could have been silver, and shone in the soft moonlight. Bare feet peaked from the hem of her pants. When Tara squinted, she could see two tiny, light brown nubs of horns coming through the girl's head.  
  
"Oh God!" shrieked Tara; "I know who you are! Why didn't I see it before? You're that elf, Willow!"  
  
"I am, am I?" the redhead nonchalantly answered, trying not to attract any attention.  
  
"Yes! You're the one causing all those problems with the humans! Last week, you turned seventy carburetors into cats! God, that's all anyone's been talking about!"  
  
As Tara began to laugh, Willow realized that she couldn't lie anymore.  
  
"You're right, that's me. I'm Willow, King Xander's source of amusement. It's my job to make sure His Highness is happy, because when he's unhappy . . . bad things kinda happen. Like last month, he- Oh, I'm rambling, aren't I?"  
  
Sitting down on a nearby stump together, the two laughed.  
  
"No," the blonde exclaimed, "I really don't mind the rambling. It takes my mind off of all the stuff going on."  
  
Willow frowned. "Oh, you mean the thing with . . ."  
  
"Yeah, that thing with the two . . ." Tara stopped, neither wanting to discuss the latest argument between their bosses. "How long has it been since they've spoken to each other?"  
  
"Six months," sighed the redhead. "He's been going crazy, all moody-like. That's why I had to do the thing with the cat. Doesn't the queen realize that he's sorry?"  
  
The fairy shook her head. "No, she's still angry. You'd think he'd know better!"  
  
"Well, he doesn't."  
  
Silence overtook the two as they gazed onto the lake. The precious peace that was always appreciated between the arguing. It wouldn't last.  
  
It didn't. Beneath them, the ground began to shake. Animals ran from the woods, hiding from the impending fight. Trees thrashed above, moaning horribly.  
  
As fast as they could, Tara and Willow ran into the woods, hoping it wouldn't be too late.  
  
By the caves, a crowd of fairies was forming, all of them silent with fear. They pushed through the mob, coming upon the arguing royalty.  
  
On one side stood Queen Cordelia, mother of the fairies, the grand roses woven through her chocolate-brown hair nodding furiously as she screamed. Fists ground into her hips, bunching around her deep violet gown. Her large wings, now bright crimson, shook with rage.  
  
"SHE WAS A HALF-LING?!" shrieked the queen to her king.  
  
King Xander, father to the fairy race, stood on the other side, sheepishly shrugging. "I didn't know she was a half-ling," he apologetically muttered. His crown, brilliant rays of gold sitting on top of his messy hair, had grown almost pale.  
  
She had caught him.  
  
Again.  
  
"DO YOU REALLY THINK THAT WILL MAKE IT OK?"  
  
"Um . . . not really."  
  
With a quick spin, Cordelia sent the fairies flanking her away. Confidently holding her head up, she marched over to her husband.  
  
"I don't think I can ever trust you again! I mean, your little incident with the water nymph could have been labeled as a 'mistake'! But this?"  
  
Taking her hand, Xander began to rub it soothingly. "I'm so so SO sorry, Cordy. It was a one-time thing. I just miss you so much and I . . ."  
  
His hopes began to elevate when he saw her soften, but it quickly passed.  
  
"Listen to me, Xander," she whispered, holding back tears, "I can't forgive you, ever. So you stay on your part of the forest. Sleep with as many half- lings or nymphs as you want to. Just stay away from me."  
  
Turning, she walked away, her fairies following behind. Tara gave Willow a look of apology, then followed her lady. The crowd dispersed, leaving King Xander and Willow alone.  
  
"I . . . I-I, I just . . ." he began, seating himself on a rock. Following him, Willow sat down next to him.  
  
"You know she doesn't mean that. She's just all mad and angry, but she'll get over it. Doesn't she always?"  
  
Sighing, Xander patted his longtime confidante on the back. "She used to, but now . . . I made a stupid mistake, and she won't forgive me." He lay on the rock, wallowing in his misery. "I have to get her back."  
  
"Oh, idea!" proclaimed the elf. "You could keep apologizing until she forgives you!"  
  
"Nah, Willow," he sighed, "I need to make her understand how I'm feeling. I have to make her . . ."  
  
He had an epiphany. It was a simple idea, but it would work.  
  
Quickly bolting up, he shocked the redhead. "Willow, do know that red flower that grows by the edge of the woods? The pansy?"  
  
"Yeah," she replied, not knowing where this was going.  
  
"Go pick me a bouquet of that flower! Quickly!"  
  
"Why do I have to?"  
  
A broad smile spread across his face. "Inside the flower lies a juice, a magic solution that, when placed on the eyes of any sleeping creature, makes them fall in love with the first living thing it sees!"  
  
Willow shot up. "Oh no! You are NOT doing that!"  
  
"It has to be done! She needs to be put in my place!"  
  
"King Xander, I . . . I can't do that!"  
  
The friendly attitude was replaced by one of authority. "I order you to get that flower! NOW!"  
  
"Fine," she spat out angrily. "You'll have it shortly."  
  
Quick as lightning, the elf was off.  
  
Reclining on the rock, Xander began to think out the plan. "When Cordelia goes to sleep tonight, I'll put the juice on her. In the morning . . . oh god, I'll make sure she falls in love with the ugliest creature that ever existed. And everyone in the forest will find out, and she'll be so embarrassed that she'll understand how I feel, and then forgive me!"  
  
His gloating was interrupted by the voices of two mortals walking nearby. A man and a woman, the woman shrieking and crying, while the man gruffly responded. They were coming close.  
  
"Well, what do we have here?" asked the fairy king, sitting up to watch the show. 


	5. I Am Your Spaniel!

Disclaimer: I've never felt pain like this. Who would've thought she would do this to me? And there she sits, calmly but firmly holding my hand as the lye burns my skin. I start to visualize a forest to ignore the pain, but a slap across my cheek brings me back. "No, stay with the pain!" Anyanka commands, a small smile crawling to her face as she watches me thrash from the anguish. "You have no idea how much this hurts!" I cry, wishing for someone to walk in the door, put a gun to my head, and put me out of my misery. But, in a surprise mood, Anyanka raises her left hand, showing me the outer part. It's a scar, one that resembles the one I will have in a few seconds. Two little lips, angrily protruding out. "Lily, you just have to admit it, and this will all go away." I ignore her. I can't do it. "You could put water on it, which will only make the burn worse, or I could pour vinegar on it and neutralize it. But you have to admit it." My eyes begin to twitch as the skin on my hand starts to melt away. "Ok!" I scream, "Joss Whedon owns Buffy the Vampire Slayer, and William Shakespeare wrote A Midsummer Night's Dream! I'm a pathetic shmuck! Now please make it stop!"  
  
  
  
Rating: PG-13- Naughtiness by the Bard  
  
Summary: 100% AU! Magic? Mistaken identity? Fairies? True love? And . . . donkey lovin'? BTVS meets Shakespeare's A Midsummer Night's Dream!  
  
Author's Notes: (singing the Indiana Jones' theme) Here I come now! It is me! I haven't written! Because I'm la-azy! (stops when a rotten tomato hits my face) I suck big time. I haven't written in so long, because I've been filling out college applications, hanging with my friends, watching my new videos from Christmas, and cleaning my room. Ooh, I've also taught myself to identify any song on the Beatles' Number 1 by listening to the first ten seconds. The point there is . . . WHO CARES? I love all of my reviewers, even those who insist I should put Lindsay in (I might make him a naked elf to please you!). And, to all of you who don't review, I still love you, but you don't get a Spikebot or Buffybot or Gilesbot (believe me, some people want one) for Valentines Day. You get a malfunctioning Glorybot or Mayorbot. Love to you all! Kisses and such!  
  
PS: I've discovered one of my newest, favoritist movies (but it doesn't replace Dogma). Fight Club! Violence, humor, anarchy, social disorder, Brad Pitt, anti-capitalism, Brad Pitt . . . so very good. Well, I (cough) stole my disclaimer from Fight Club. Believe me, the actual scene is a lot more entertaining.  
  
  
  
  
  
Chapter Five- I Am Your Spaniel!  
  
*I forgot she could swear like a sailor,* mused Angel as he rushed through the forest.  
  
Behind him, he could hear Drusilla cursing her decision to wear platform heals with every uneven step she took. Every nine steps or so, she'd fall off balance, or trip over a stone or stick, or find herself immersed in a puddle of warm, sticky mud. Her legs, left bare because of her choice in wearing a miniskirt, were scratched and bleeding from the stray branches she brushed by.  
  
Amazingly, she kept going on. The girl had stamina.  
  
"Angel! Please slow down!" she cried, her chest heaving up and down as tried to catch her breath.  
  
Ten feet ahead of her, Angel grunted with amusement. "Why you think I'm actually going to wait for you?"  
  
"Because you're-"  
  
The brunette girl stumbled, tripping and falling forward onto the ground.  
  
"DAMNIT!"  
  
Her new, $160 white halter top was ruined, a large splattering of mud covering the front.  
  
Turning, Angel caught a glimpse of his former girlfriend, her eyes bright red as she cursed the world through tears.  
  
"That'll teach you," he muttered, taking off quickly and hoping she wouldn't follow.  
  
A few yards ahead, the trees thinned out as he entered the cave area. Leaning against a nearby rock to rest, he let the memories of this area wash over him. As a child, he and his buddies would spend their summers in the caves, creating great adventures involving pirates and spacemen. Then, when he entered his teen years, he would bring his girlfriends down for a little "conversation".  
  
That is, until Drusilla came to high school.  
  
It had been the usual games when he met her, Angel playing the part of the irresistible older guy. But she wouldn't take any of his crap. She turned him down, every single time. Drusilla made him pursue her, woo her. And in the end, Angel fell in love with the seductive, darkly gorgeous, somewhat spacey self-proclaimed "Princess".  
  
As he heard Drusilla coming closer, hopping as she re-strapped her shoes, Angel wondered where his princess had gone. She had become this dribbling, woeful, emotional, lovesick girl. He would admit, to himself only, that it was probably him that caused this change, when he dumped her for Buffy.  
  
In high school, he and Buffy had been close, as close as the boyfriend and best friend could be. Truthfully, he thought nothing of the small blonde girl, only admiring the fact at how good she was to Drusilla.  
  
But the day he became Hank Summers intern, and found out who his daughter was, became the day Buffy transformed into the most perfect woman on the planet. He knew in high school that she was loaded, but he hadn't any idea how powerful and influential her connections were. Unlike Drusilla, who came from a family of vineyard owners, being with Buffy meant he could move up in the world, someday taking over Hank's position at Sire Records or, possibly, Rupert Giles'.  
  
Watching Drusilla push her bangs out of her eyes and come near him (close, but not TOO close), Angel became angry.  
  
"Why are you following me?" he screamed, his nose inches away from hers. "I mean, I thanked you when you told me about Buffy and Spike, but I thought we were done at that!" Drusilla's eyes became softer when she noticed how close they were, a sight that made him more rabid. "I. AM. HERE. TO. GET. BUFFY! BUFFY! Not to spend time with you!"  
  
She didn't respond, only to sigh heavily and make sad mooneyes at him.  
  
"Oh God!" he roared, "Are you slow? Do you understand anything I'm saying? I HATE YOU! I don't have a clue why I stayed with you!"  
  
As he quickly stood up, Drusilla's eyes grew large with fear.  
  
"I DO understand Angel," she cried, near tears, "I understand that you are only pretending to hate me! I know that, somewhere, you still love me! You know it too! So does Buffy and everyone from school and the planets . . ."  
  
"Shut up about the stupid planets, you nimrod!"  
  
"Why don't you make me, Angelus!"  
  
He faltered when she used his real name, something she only did when she was truly pissed. Staring at her closely as she leaned against the large stone, he saw a bit of the old Drusilla, the one who could send his head spinning with one look. Approaching her, it took every bit of his resolve not to get on his knees and beg forgiveness from his Dark Goddess.  
  
"For the last time, listen to me. I don't feel anything for you. You were just . . . a conquest. A good time."  
  
The lie sat in the back of his throat, burning him.  
  
"You don't mean that." A small tear dropped from her eye. When he didn't respond she continued, angrier. "Do you know what happens in the forest when you lie? The spirits get angry and make you pay."  
  
"Fine with me, just as long as you leave me alone."  
  
Stomping as he left her, Angel left the caves. He had to find Buffy before she and Spike completed their objective. It had to be this way.  
  
Seconds later, he heard Drusilla follow him, sniffling as she trailed.  
  
His faithful little dog.  
  
^^^^^^^^^^  
  
As the two left the clearing, Xander realized how much he hated human guys.  
  
He had seen everything. Invisible, and sitting on top of the rock they leaned against, he watched the man purposely hurt her, purposely make her cry. And the young woman took it all, so strongly in love with the cruel man.  
  
*Don't worry. By the time you leave tomorrow, he'll be chasing you.*  
  
A presence came up from behind him.  
  
"Did ya get it?" he asked, knowing well who it was.  
  
Thrusting a bouquet of poppies into his hand, Willow grumpily seated herself next to the king.  
  
"There you go, Mr. I'm-Gonna-Be-In-So-Much-Trouble-If-And-When-Queen- Cordelia-Finds-Out."  
  
Poppies, normal poppies to be exact, are pretty little flowers. But the poppies he held were a special breed, grown by the naiads, and fed by the enchanted streams. The large petals weren't red, they were scarlet, almost the color of blood and passion, attached to the bulb, which was swelling from the extraordinary amount of nectar that lie inside. A bouquet of twelve. More than enough to do the job.  
  
"Got a mission for you," he said, taking a flower from the bunch, "There is a man in the forest, with a young girl following him. She's in love with him, but he's a bastard and said she was 'Just a good time.' "  
  
Willow's eyes grew large. "He did?" Her mouth turned into a menacing frown. "Stupid poophead."  
  
"Go into the woods and find them. He's lookin' pretty tired, so when he's asleep, put some of the juice on his eyes." He leaned in, making sure she would get the next part correctly. "The girl must be the first thing he sees when he wakes up!"  
  
"Okeedokee!" Willow exclaimed, getting ready to run off.  
  
Stopping her momentarily, Xander continued. "You'll know who they are because . . . well, because they are the only humans in the forest tonight."  
  
Tucking the flower behind her ear, the elf grinned. "Got it, boss!"  
  
In a flash, the redhead was off.  
  
"Now," he mumbled to himself, looking down at the flowers, "I've got my own things to do."  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Author's Notes, Part II: Dum dum DUM! The plot thickens! Muahaha! So, can you guess what's going to happen? No? Well, it's going to get a lot weirder. For those of you who know the play, I decided to redeem the part of Demetrius (Angel), giving him a valid reason to chase Hermia (Buffy) and dump Helena (Drusilla). I just finished Pride and Prejudice for school, so it seems valid to me. Also, for my readers out there who have seen the latest movie version with Rupert Everett and Calista Flockhard, should I (tee hee hee) make it a bit more like that one? *coughnakedspikecough* Opinions? Comments? Admissions of Undying Love? 


	6. What Thou Seest

Disclaimer: Well, I'm not feeling up to anything creative-wise in the disclaimer section. I own nothing Buffy the Vampire Slayer related. Joss Whedon does. And I don't own A Midsummer Night's Dream. William Shakespeare does. Or would, if he were alive today, or if his family has publishing rights. Oh, and I don't own anything relating to the movie version. Does that settle it all? No? It doesn't? But I don't wanna say it . . . Fine! And contrary to popular belief, I did not invent the question mark or electricity. Somebody else did. I am a pathetic nothing who never created anything worth remembering.  
  
  
  
Rating: PG-13- Naughtiness by the Bard  
  
Summary: 100% AU! Magic? Mistaken identity? Fairies? True love? And . . . donkey lovin'? BTVS meets Shakespeare's A Midsummer Night's Dream!  
  
Author's Notes: Again with the not writing! Sorry. You don't know how much free time you have until it's all gone. All of last week, I've been writing my semester final paper on Pride and Prejudice and preparing for the league acting competition. Hence the not writing. So very sorry! And if that isn't enough, I now possibly have strep throat! Wonderful, and just in time for finals! Life is crappy! So, here is a new chapter, and I hope it makes up for the lateness of it all. Kisses, hugs, and prostrate exams!  
  
PS: Turn and cough!  
  
  
  
  
  
Chapter Six- What Thou Seest  
  
Half a mile into the forest, a small stream trickled through the forest. Nothing much could be said about it, except the water was some of the purest that lay in Sunnydale. If a traveler were to follow the stream, they would come upon a fork in the river. Taking the eastern fork would lead the person back into town, where the water became brown and polluted.  
  
But the western fork snakes further into the forest, passing by fields of clover and daisies, and the ground on which the stream flowed drops away, letting the water fall into a glorious waterfall. It rests in a small, but deep, pool until it slips away with the current.  
  
No spirit would dare enter this area without permission.  
  
Around the banks of the pond, and tiny meadow that lies beside it, is Queen Cordelia's favorite haunt. As long as she has existed, it has been hers. All the deer that sleep under the oak trees, all the robins that make nests in the branches, all the frogs that swim through the cold water, belong to her. She cares for her creatures as any loving parent would, and they in turn protect the lair when she is away.  
  
It should be mentioned that the queen only comes to her pond and meadow on special occasions.  
  
It should also be mentioned that those "special occasions" happen only when she and King Xander fight.  
  
"BASTARD! ALL MEN ARE BASTARDS!" Her scream echoed against the trees, waking a den of rabbits.  
  
"I mean, I thought he learned his lesson! I thought he be all, 'Oh, Cordy didn't like it when I messed around in the 17th century, so she probably won't be ok with it now!" shrieked Cordelia, feeling the hot tears sting against her skin.  
  
Rolling her eyes, Tara nodded, continuing unsuccessfully to brush her lady's hair. They sat in the sand by the pond, Cordelia lying her head in her servant's lap as she cried.  
  
Tara remembered how the queen had acted after Xander's numerous affairs with a changeling tribe in 1633. For six years, she banished all the men of her court to the Asian desert, and forbid any communication between the sexes. As for herself, Cordelia spent the time roaming through the human world, cursing the males with a deadly virus. It spread violently. Hence the Black Death.  
  
But Tara snapped out of her thoughts when she heard the queen ask a question.  
  
"Excuse me, milady?"  
  
Cordelia sighed. "Maybe I should just give it all up! You know?"  
  
"I don't, milady."  
  
"Maybe I should just say 'To hell with men!' and become a lesbian! You seem to be ok with it."  
  
Inwardly, Tara felt like shooting herself. Or the queen. Whatever was most convenient. "Well, Queen Cordelia, in order to be a lesbian, you kinda have to like . . . women."  
  
"Oh. Nevermind."  
  
She sat up, and Tara put on her crown, a garland of purple, pink and blue flowers. It matched the larger garland that hung around the waist of her light blue, velvet gown.  
  
Linking her arm through Tara's, the brunette continued. "Why did he do it? Wasn't I enough for him? Or am I just too old for him? A thousand centuries changes people, so maybe I've changed."  
  
"No," laughed Tara, "He still thinks you are the center of his universe. It just . . . he's been having fleeting feelings."  
  
"Oh, you should have seen his face when I caught him. Like, I thought he was pale when I caught him flirting with that skank-ho of a water nymph!" She shook her head. "But, when I walked to the caves and saw him on . . ." Another tear trickled down her cheek. "She was a changeling. A changeling! They're like, little dirty trolls who- NO! They're lower than trolls! They're changelings! Nothing is lower than a changeling!"  
  
As the two approached the queen's napping area, a third fairy joined the group. It was Dawn, Cordelia's second favorite servant. Nervously fiddling with the skirt on her pink sleeveless gown, she meekly addressed the queen.  
  
"Milady, do you want me to sent everyone away while you nap?"  
  
A pang of sympathy hit Tara. Dawn had only been serving the queen for a few centuries, and wasn't used to her royal Moodiness' quirks.  
  
Mumbling a response, Cordelia began climbed up her favorite tree, which overlooked the meadow. Lounging on a strong branch, the queen began to lightly doze.  
  
"Alright, everyone get out of here," quietly ordered Dawn, shooing away the milling fairies. "All of you, buzz off!"  
  
Quiet entered Cordelia's woods, and a small bird started singing a soft lullaby. A heavy sleep began to wash over Tara as she walked back to the pond.  
  
"Dawn, I'm going to take a quick nap. Wake me up for my shift," requested the fairy, only to see that the brunette had already fallen asleep near a little field of strawberries.  
  
Reclining on the sand, her eyes began to droop. It had been a long day, and she deserved a little bit of slumber.  
  
Glancing one more time at her queen, Tara closed her eyes and fell asleep.  
  
^^^^^^^^^^  
  
"Almost too easy, isn't it?" asked Xander, knowing perfectly well he was the only one awake.  
  
From afar, he had been watching Cordelia and her servants' hang about her haunt, waiting for the perfect moment. She always took a nap in the late evening, and slept soundly.  
  
But as for her attendants, that was another matter. They were diligent, always alert, always watching. In order to charm Cordelia, he needed them out of the way. So, using a spell he learned long ago from a gypsy woman, he disguised his voice as a songbird's and sang them to sleep.  
  
Tiptoeing past her elf-guard Lindsay, and scooting quickly by her head servant Tara, he closed in on his wife.  
  
But, when he began to consider himself safe, his legs gave way under him. He tripped over something.  
  
Jumping up, he searched for the offending root or branch that could have given him away, only to find it was a leg. A leg belonging to a small, brunette fairy.  
  
She didn't wake up, and as Xander moved her legs aside, proceeded to mumble something obscure about raccoons.  
  
With the fairy put out of the way, Xander continued his trespassing. Soon, he stood under Cordelia's favorite tree.  
  
Climbing up the tree as a bear would, he leapt onto the branch where she slept. Flower in hand, he was ready.  
  
But his plan was forgotten as he gazed upon her. At once, he felt guilty for the plan. Cordelia always forgave him, sooner or later. And, although she declared she would never see him again, he knew it wasn't true.  
  
A memory came back of the two of them, sitting on the very same branch, watching a doe give birth to a fawn in the early spring. They sat, hand in hand, in love like two mortal teenagers. She wasn't criticizing him, and he wasn't cheating on her.  
  
*Maybe Willow was right . . .*  
  
Raising his left hand, he began to slap himself across the face. He had to go through with the plan. She needed to forgive him.  
  
Carefully straddling Cordelia, he pinched the flower on the bulb. A tiny secretion of juice came to the surface, a rosy dew.  
  
It was dropped onto her eyelids, and the dew sparkled like two jewels. She was charmed.  
  
"Fall in love with something gross, ok baby?" whispered Xander, before springing onto the ground and rushing away.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Author's Notes, Part II: I always love it when authors respond to my reviews. It gives me little Goosebumps! So, here's a bone for you who like a little recognition.  
  
Beenieweenie: gotta love a Shakespeare newbie! Hope this POS story inspires you to read up on the dude's plays. And I also belong to the "Faith Kicks Ass" camp. She just screams bassist.  
  
Michelle, PortCharlesSlayer, and Rosie: Glad you love my story! So very happy! *does the happy insane dance*  
  
Dee: Oh yeah! I can't take this a smutty way. I mean, you are correct. James Marsters is an incredibly talented actor and blah blah blah, I'm going to find some more internet pics of his fine self! Why? Because I am a loser! 


	7. Wand'ring in the Wood

Disclaimer: Well, I'm not feeling up to anything creative-wise in the disclaimer section. I own nothing Buffy the Vampire Slayer related. Joss Whedon does. And I don't own A Midsummer Night's Dream. William Shakespeare does. Or would, if he were alive today, or if his family has publishing rights. Oh, and I don't own anything relating to the movie version. Everything I own is crappy/ lame. But, because I rock, I'm just going to sit here and listen to my Police CDs and protest. Someday I will own something worth talking about (i.e. a certain bleached blonde hottie). HAHAHA, I need a life.  
  
  
  
Rating: PG-13- Naughtiness by the Bard  
  
Summary: 100% AU! Magic? Mistaken identity? Fairies? True love? And . . . donkey lovin'? BTVS meets Shakespeare's A Midsummer Night's Dream!  
  
Author's Notes: Arrgh! I am so bad! I haven't had a chance to update in a long time! I had college stuff going on, and then my wonderful school had finals. If that isn't enough, my relatives from Florida are spending the week here with us, and all we've been doing is skiing (it's SOOO hard being a white middle class girl!). My sister and brother are sleeping in my room, and my computer savvy sister has been spending all of her time on my computer. So, I've only been able to write when I've had a chance. But, anyways, here is a new chappy. And, for all of you who know the story, the shit really hits the fan.  
  
PS: Willow sings a song in this chappy, "Medley: Aquarius/ Let the Sunshine In" by the Fifth Dimension. I do know how the song goes, but I tweaked the lyrics 'cause it seemed very Willow-like, forgetting how it goes and all. Don't bust my butt, I do what I please.  
  
  
  
  
  
Chapter Seven- Wand'ring in the Wood  
  
"Now, I have to ask you a simple question. What stupid little voice in your head told you, 'It's ok if I wear high heels. We're just running through the BLOODY FOREST!'?"  
  
Rolling her eyes for the thousandth time that night, Buffy tightened the grip around Spike's neck.  
  
"I wasn't thinking! I made one stupid mistake! Jeez, grumpy much?"  
  
The only response was Spike muttering a very English string of curses, something involving 'damned' and 'bint'. But he kept going on, occasionally boosting Buffy higher on his back.  
  
Midnight had come, and the two lovers met. After stashing their belongings for Spike to pick up later, they stealthily made their way through the forest, pausing when they could swear they heard voices. They were well on their way when they made an unfortunate discovery.  
  
Buffy, while hurriedly packing for the escape, didn't have the time to change out of that day's outfit. When the time came to leave, she went in her light green sundress and matching high heels. And, for those of you who have ever had to run in high heels . . . you understand the situation.  
  
For the past half-hour, Spike had to carry his girlfriend piggyback style, thereby lengthening the time and decreasing the speed of the journey.  
  
They entered a grove of cherry trees, full of fruit ready to be harvested. Unhooking the legs around his waist, Spike set Buffy on the ground.  
  
"What's going on?" The young woman was tired and a bit cold, and didn't want to stop.  
  
"I'm tired," he responded, stretching out on the ground while she looked down at him.  
  
She faltered, knowing the real reason. "We're lost, aren't we?"  
  
He bolted up. "Like hell we are! I'm just . . . well, you have to . . . sometimes you move through a place . . ." Spike gave up, threw his hands in the air, and flopped back down. "Alright, we're bloody lost. Y' happy?"  
  
As Spike started fishing through his pockets, Buffy backed away. He had been griping the entire night and it was making her angry.  
  
*God, when he's pissed, he's the biggest king of the bastards,* she ranted in her head. Finding a soft spot of grass a ways from her boyfriend, she too lay down.  
  
Buffy was not in the mood to deal with a nineteen-year-old baby.  
  
After a few moments of searching, Spike pulled his cell phone out of his pockets. The reception was clear, but there was probably only enough battery power left to make one phone call. He dialed the numbers.  
  
Clem's answering machine picked up. *Prolly getting something to eat, stupid git!*  
  
"Hey Clem, 's me. Look, Buffy and I are lost. No worries, we're ok. At sunrise we'll be able to meet you. So have the car ready around seven. Bye."  
  
He stashed the phone deep in his pockets.  
  
*Everything's good. Just a bit of a delay, that's all.*  
  
Sitting up, he looked around for his girlfriend. She was lying underneath a younger cherry tree, curled in the fetal position, her back to him.  
  
A pang of regret hit him. He had been a jerk during the entire trip, yelling at her for a simple mistake, while he was the one who had gotten them lost.  
  
Sneaking up behind her, he quickly rapped his arms around her waist. "Sorry pet," he whispered into her ear.  
  
Buffy kept her eyes glued shut. "Yeah, I bet."  
  
"Forgive me?"  
  
When she didn't respond, he began to slowly tickle her side. "Forgive me?"  
  
Biting down on her lip, she attempted to hold back a giggle. Then the attack went full force.  
  
"Forgive me?" He tickled every single weak spot on her body. Her sides, her stomach, her feet, her neck; nothing was safe. As he did, he could feel her struggling to keep the laughter in, her entire body shaking. Finally, she gave up.  
  
"I forgive you!" Buffy erupted into laughter. "You so don't play fair."  
  
Spike turned her onto her back to look at her. "Never said I did Goldilocks."  
  
Smiling, she reached up and cupped his face in her hands. As he leaned in, she began to trail light kisses from his forehead down, landing last on his mouth. The two deepened the kiss, Spike parting his lips just a bit as she began to taste him.  
  
But as his hand began to travel up her leg, she pulled away.  
  
"Somethin' wrong?" he asked, breathless and dazed.  
  
An evil grin spread on her face.  
  
"I'm still mad at you."  
  
"Huh?"  
  
Her small hand reached out, and pointed to the spot where he had first lay down.  
  
"You get to sleep over there."  
  
"WHAT!"  
  
Laughing at his dumbstruck face, she continued. "You're a bastard and need to be taught a lesson. And I am so not doing 'that' in the forest."  
  
She turned away from him, but he pulled her back. "C'mon Buffy, I said I was sorry!" But he saw the firm look on her face and stood up, sighing as he went to his spot.  
  
"Who do you think is really getting punished here?" she yelled as Spike lay down. "I get to spend the night all alone and cold!"  
  
Rolling his eyes as he grinned, Spike picked up his leather duster and chucked it at her. She knew how anal-retentive he was about it, insisting that he needed to bring it along even though it was 70 degrees at night.  
  
Smirking, Buffy spread the duster across her body and curled up in it. "Love you William!"  
  
"Love you too, evil woman."  
  
If she had a billion dollars, she would bet he was pouting.  
  
Snuggling into the duster, Buffy drifted off to sleep.  
  
^^^^^^^^^^  
  
"When the moon is in the seventh house  
  
And Jupiter aligns with Mars  
  
Then something something da da  
  
La la la, dah do do do, bum bum!  
  
This is dawning of the Age of Aquarius  
  
Age of Aquariuuuus"  
  
Picking up a stick, Willow began to trail it behind her. Every so often, she would bring it up and whack some random bush or clump of grass.  
  
*I'm so bored!*  
  
She had been all throughout the forest, searching for the two humans. So far, all she had seen was a group of tree nymphs in a fistfight, and some raccoons mating.  
  
Singing wasn't helping, and she wasn't about to start playing the alphabet game by herself.  
  
*I am officially, legally, and ridiculously bored!*  
  
Groaning, she entered the cherry tree orchard. There were only five more spots in the forest to check, and if she didn't find the humans, Xander would be pissed.  
  
A form lying in the grass caught her eye. The elf went to expect.  
  
"YES!"  
  
It was the human boy, asleep.  
  
And off to his right, about ten feet away, was the young woman, also sleeping.  
  
"She won't even sleep next to him!" she grumbled to herself. "What a butthole!"  
  
Straddling the blond haired boy and sitting on his chest, Willow removed the flower from behind her ear. A pearl of the rosy dew formed when she squeezed the bulb. Taking some on her finger, she spread it across his eyes.  
  
"You soooo do not deserve her, Mr. 'I'm so hot!'." To emphasize her point, Willow gave him a quick slap on the cheek.  
  
Throwing the flower behind her, Willow jumped up, and as quick as a deer, was off to find Xander and tell him the good news.  
  
The mean boy was charmed.  
  
^^^^^^^^^^  
  
"Angel! Please slow down!"  
  
Drusilla couldn't keep up. Every inch of her body was either scratched or covered in mud. And her favorite pair of shoes was threatening to break apart.  
  
"Angel . . . PLEASE!"  
  
But he ignored her. He wouldn't even turn his head around at her pleas.  
  
"Angel-"  
  
The seams on her shoes split apart, and she fell.  
  
Recovering quickly, she looked up to see where Angel was.  
  
He was gone, not even stopping to check up on her.  
  
"Oh, shit!" A stream of hot tears sprung from her eyes.  
  
*I'm lost in the damned forest, without any shoes, and Angel left me!*  
  
She stood, pulling off the remaining shoe and tossing it in the bushes. If she ran, she could catch up with him.  
  
But she had no idea where he was.  
  
Taking a chance, she headed off in the direction of a grove of cherry trees. Angel liked cherries, so he might have gone that way.  
  
It was empty when she entered, but she still examined the area, looking for any sign of her beloved.  
  
Nearing the middle of the grove, she spotted something in the grass. A person.  
  
"Oh, god!"  
  
Spike was the person, she realized. And Buffy was nowhere to be seen.  
  
Thinking the worst of the situation, Drusilla hurried over to her friend. Kneeling beside him, she began to shake him, hoping he would wake up.  
  
"Come on, Spike! Wake up!" Shaking him harder, she began to scream in his ear. "Wake the hell up!"  
  
To her relief, he blinked.  
  
He stared up at her with confusion. But then his eyes grew wide as he looked closely at her.  
  
"Drusilla?"  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Author's Notes, Part II:  
  
Imzadi- So, you like the whole Lindsey/ Legolas idea. Actually, I didn't think about it that way, but now that I do . . . yum! Glad you like. I sure do. Thank you for the mental picture (runs and takes a cold shower). 


	8. A Raven For a Dove

Disclaimer: Well, I'm not feeling up to anything creative-wise in the disclaimer section. I own nothing Buffy the Vampire Slayer related. Joss Whedon does. And I don't own A Midsummer Night's Dream. William Shakespeare does. Or would, if he were alive today, or if his family has publishing rights. Oh, and I don't own anything relating to the movie version. Everything I own is crappy/ lame. No need to feel sorry, because my life is terrible.  
  
  
  
Rating: PG-13- Naughtiness by the Bard  
  
Summary: 100% AU! Magic? Mistaken identity? Fairies? True love? And . . . donkey lovin'? BTVS meets Shakespeare's A Midsummer Night's Dream!  
  
Author's Notes: Everything is back to regular. No more finals, no more theater competition, no more emotional baggage. This, for my readers, is a new chapter. Yes, a new chapter! So, I will so be writing more often, now that I barely have any homework. Three of my classes this semester are super hard (calculus! God, how I hate calculus!), but the rest are so damn easy (I plan to spend the period I'm in economics by writing out new chapter ideas, so yea for you all!) Love you all so very much, and keep reading and posting reviews!  
  
PS: I've been spending the past six months looking for some stories. They were removed during the whole Fan Fic debacle. But I found them on an archive site, so I have to sing its praises! Sinister Attractions, you so rock, and thank you for keeping the good stories on the web! Lily-bug loves you!  
  
  
  
  
  
Chapter Eight- A Raven For a Dove  
  
"Drusilla?"  
  
With a sudden burst of energy, Spike bolted up from his position on the ground.  
  
He stared at the beautiful woman in front of him, this heavenly creature that could only have desended from the heavens.  
  
Oblivious to the look of longing in his eyes, Drusilla found herself inwardly sighing. *He's not hurt, or dead, or worse, thank God!* Backing away, she gave him a playful punch on the shoulder.  
  
"You stupid bastard, I thought you were-"  
  
The words from her mouth stopped when she felt Spike clutch her hand, holding it as if it were made of fragile crystal.  
  
"Oh God, I'm a fool." His fingers lightly rubbed the soft skin on her hand.  
  
Raising an eyebrow, she slowly pulled her hand out of his grip. "Why are you a fool?" she asked, a teasing tone in her voice.  
  
He kneeled before her, rapping his arms around her shoulders. "I've been blind, Dru. Utterly blind! As long as I've known you, I never saw the gorgeous woman standing in front of me. But now, I can see. Damnit, I see!" The poetry flooded from his lips, even if it was completely corny and cliched. It didn't matter though. "I love you Drusilla!"  
  
A look of discomfort settled on the brunette's face. "Oh . . . really?" Standing, she slowly began to back away. "That's, um . . . that's fine . . . um, Spike. B-but I have to go find Angel, so-"  
  
"ANGEL?"  
  
He leapt up, his face distorted with anger.  
  
"That stupid, bloody wanker is in the forest with you?! Where is he? I'll kill him!" He started to stalk towards her, as a predator would approach his pray, while Drusilla helplessly backed up against a tree, terrified.  
  
"What do you mean?" She laughed uncomfortably; hoping humor would relieve the situation. But, she realized that it didn't work when Spike pressed his palms against the bark of the tree, pinning her there. "What about Buffy?" *A diversionary tactic! Yes, it'll work!* "Don't you still love her?"  
  
"Buffy?" He spat the word out as if he was saying manure, or homework. "Yeah, that was a great relationship. That stupid little girl crying all the bloody time. 'Wa wa, my life is so stinky!' " The disgusted look slowly melted away, and he put his left hand to her cheek. "Nobody else compares with you, ducks."  
  
Taking the opportunity, Drusilla escaped as he leaned in to kiss her.  
  
As fast as a person in a miniskirt could, she quickly sped off, with Spike trailing.  
  
*What in the hell is wrong with him? He doesn't love me! He loves Buffy! This all has to be some mistake. Or maybe he really does love me, and just didn't know about it! Or maybe . . . *  
  
She stopped, allowing Spike to catch up with her and grab her arm.  
  
"I see what this is!" she screamed, spinning around to look at the blond. "You and Buffy got bored, and decided to play a game with me! Called 'Let's Make Drusilla Cry by Pointing Out the Fact That No One Will Ever Be In Love with Her'! You were just on the ground, waiting for me to pass by, weren't you?!"  
  
He began to protest, but she ignored it.  
  
"Buffy's probably right in the bushes now, watching you make fun of poor, stupid Dru!"  
  
Molding her free hand into a fist, she popped a hard jab right into his stomach. His breath escaped from his body as he collapsed in a heap on the ground.  
  
"That'll teach you to mess with Drusilla Claire! She's friends with the stars and fairies, and they always help her!" Adding a hard kick in his side to her declaration, she stormed off.  
  
Desperately trying to get the air back in his lungs, Spike sat up.  
  
"Wait Dru! Please wait!" His body shaking in protest, he got to his feet and began to follow her.  
  
As he came near the trees she passed though, he spied the spot where Buffy was lying. Despite all the noise, she was still asleep, curled up in his duster.  
  
In the past, when he was still in love with her, Spike would've rushed to her side the moment he looked at her.  
  
But, he didn't give her a second thought, deciding instead to chase the brunette, his goddess, through the woods.  
  
^^^^^^^^^^  
  
A smile curled on Buffy's lips as she came out of sleep.  
  
Burying her nose into the duster that covered her body, she inhaled the smell that lingered on. That dark, musky smell that clung to Spike always sent a shiver down her spine.  
  
"Spike hon, are you awake?" she sighed, her eyes still shut. There was no answer.  
  
"Spike?" she called a little louder, waiting for the answer that never sounded.  
  
Quickly, she sat up.  
  
If not for the moon and stars that peaked through the branches in the trees overhead, the woods would have been a sea of black. But, through the twilight, she could survey her surroundings.  
  
The trees . . .  
  
The grass . . .  
  
And the empty spot where Spike had been sleeping.  
  
A wave of panic hit her.  
  
Where was he?  
  
"SPIKE!" she screamed, her small voice echoing against the large trees.  
  
He was gone.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Author's Notes, Part II:  
  
Imzadi- do I have to say "I agree"? I think not! 


	9. Hempen Homespuns

Disclaimer: Well, I'm not feeling up to anything creative-wise in the disclaimer section. I own nothing Buffy the Vampire Slayer related. Joss Whedon does. And I don't own A Midsummer Night's Dream. William Shakespeare does. Or would, if he were alive today, or if his family has publishing rights. Oh, and I don't own anything relating to the movie version. Everything I own is crappy/ lame. No need to feel sorry, because my life is terrible.  
Rating: PG-13- Naughtiness by the Bard  
  
Summary: 100% AU! Magic? Mistaken identity? Fairies? True love? And . . . donkey lovin'? BTVS meets Shakespeare's A Midsummer Night's Dream!  
  
Author's Notes: Hey, new chapter! *does happy dance*. Just saw the newest episode of our favorite show (I'm guessing it's your favorite too, seeing how you are reading fan fic based off of the show). So, me very happy. Why? Oh, I'm still appreciating the moment where everyone's favorite bad boy appeared half nekkid. Wow, I'm completely pathetic. Anyway, here is something special. You thought everything was ok in Stratford forest? You thought wrong! (I should never write tag lines for movies). Um . . . yeah. Please post, because the ultimate affirmation that I should continue with getting out of bed, showering, and performing customary acts of grooming rests in the reviews of people I've never met. I love you all.  
  
PS: I'm not really one to like songs in fan fiction. I use to believe that it took from the overall writing. But remember everyone, I am a corporate shill and a review whore, so I have no ethics. Because my Groundlings are a band, they must sing. Therefore, they perform (well, not really perform, but you get the idea) "Warning Sign" from one of my favorite bands, Coldplay. Hope you enjoy.  
Chapter Nine-Hempen Homespuns  
  
"My dear, sweet Oz," grumbled Faith, the weight of her acoustic bass guitar making her sway to one side, "Could you please explain where the HELL we are going?!"  
  
"Almost there." Oz looked over at Riley, walking next to him, and rolled his eyes. Then, the two pushed through a clump of low branches, which swung back almost immediately as they passed.  
  
The next thing Wesley knew, he was lying on the ground, his face stinging from the branch whip.  
  
Oz appeared over him, an apologetic smile on his face. "Sorry," he mumbled, as Riley rushed back to help the manager up.  
  
"No trouble at all," lied the man, picking up his glasses that had fallen to the ground.  
  
Devon rushed up from behind, joining Oz and Riley at the front of the traveling group. As Wesley followed, he could see the brunet teasing Oz, who simply grinned and held up his middle finger.  
  
Wesley glanced down at his watch. 1:03 AM.  
  
The group would have arrived earlier, if Faith's POS van hadn't chosen that night to break down. They had to wait for a tow truck, run back to campus, and then pile into Anya's tiny station wagon. She hadn't made it a pleasant experience to top it off, threatening lawsuits if she found one scratch or stain anywhere.  
  
"Hey Wesley!" cried Anya.  
  
*Speak of the devil.*  
  
"Yes Anya?"  
  
"What in the world are we supposed to do tonight? Play like some sort of folksingers? Commune with nature? Dance around naked in the full moon?"  
  
He gritted his teeth. "Your supposed to get that record contract, then make me a lot of money before you dismiss me and hire that Backsync Boys capitalistic so-called manager."  
  
"What?" she yelled, not hearing the answer.  
  
"Practice. That is all I am asking of you this evening. Then you can go home and sleep with whomever you find that rank bar where you hang out."  
  
"Oh." He heard the woman sigh. "Um . . . Wesley?"  
  
"What is it now, Anya?"  
  
"That's not me. Faith's the one who has causal sex with strangers she meets in bars."  
  
"WHAT?!" Wesley could hear the brunette slap Anya.  
  
"I prefer to have my sexual encounters with people who've at least bought me dinner twice," Anya unfortunately continued. "I orgasm easier once my dates have spent money on me."  
  
"Jesus, Anya! Please tell us more about your bedroom escapades!" Devon screamed.  
  
"Sure. Last night-"  
  
"Oh look," cried Riley, interrupting the sex talk, "We're here!"  
  
Anya moaned. "But we were talking about me!"  
  
She toned the volume down as they entered a clearing, almost as if the area demanded silence. Wesley couldn't wonder why as he looked around the area. Large trees crowning overhead, a serene waterfall pooling over to the left.  
  
A low whistle came from Faith. "Nice digs, Oz. Where'd you find this place?"  
  
He smiled. "I have my connections."  
  
The scene was admired for a few minutes more, until Wesley exclaimed that it was time to practice.  
  
Gathering in the small meadow, the band formed a semi circle. Anya sat in the middle, a large bottle of water clenched in her hand as she warmed up. Devon, Oz, and Faith began to tune their instruments, strumming a few bars. Riley, who couldn't bring his entire drum set, reverted to using Oz's guitar case as a makeshift bongo.  
  
Wesley watched in amazement at the sight before him. A year ago, this had been the band. Five college freshmen with crappy instruments playing at open Mic nights, singing acoustic covers of popular songs. They had the talent, but not the publicity know-how.  
  
Enter Wesley. He, a sophomore, had been majoring in business. He had met Riley in a computer seminar, and Riley invited the man to watch his band perform.  
  
This was exactly how he met the band. After their hour-long performance, he treated the group to a round of shots at a nearby bar, and asked if he could manage them. Within a few months of working with the upperclassman, "The Groundlings" had become the most popular local band in the small community, and word was slowly spreading to LA. And after tomorrow . . . who knows.  
  
A good-natured argument erupted between Faith and Anya over what song they would play first. Even with all of their local success, they were still the close knit family. They still kept their feet on the ground, knowing that it all could go away if they weren't careful.  
  
"Alright," Wesley exclaimed, notebook in hand, "Let's get started."  
  
^^^^^^^^^^  
  
With a jump in her step, Willow strolled through the forest. King Xander's eyes lit up when she explained how she found the human boy and charmed him. But the moment of rest was short-lived.  
  
She had a new, but easy assignment.  
  
Queen Cordelia would be waking up soon, and he wanted to ensure that her eyes would fall upon the most grotesque creature that roamed through the forest. Simple enough. Lots of weird things wandered through the woods.  
  
A noise caught the elf's ear. A noise coming from Queen Cordelia's haunt.  
  
Slowing to a tiptoe, she snuck in. The queen could have already awaken, and fallen for some bear or bird that had rambled through unaware.  
  
Passing by the tree, the noise became clearer. It was . . . music. Human music.  
  
In the queen's meadow sat a group of humans, six at least, playing crude musical instruments. Off to the side sat another, although this one was over-impeccably dressed. Not for just the season, but for the situation.  
  
Interested in this lone human, she studied him. He watched the group of humans, wrote some notes on a pad of paper, then shouted something or another back to the group. Everything about him was formal: his manner, posture, penmanship.  
  
An idea hit her.  
  
This human, this anal-retentive human, would be perfect.  
  
Absolutely perfect.  
  
^^^^^^^^^^  
  
Slightly applauding the blues-y rendition of "Someone Like You", Wesley sat up as they announced their second song.  
  
Oz and Devon began to strum, Faith came in a few seconds later, along with Riley's mock-bongo.  
  
As the melodramatic tune went on, Anya sat up slightly, parted her lips, and let the tune flow out  
  
{A warning sign}  
  
{I missed the good part then I realized}  
  
{I started looking and the bubble burst}  
  
{I started looking for excuses}  
  
Not many knew how well she could sing, but as the honey-like notes melted through the forest, Wesley knew that his lead singer could woo anyone.  
  
{Come on in}  
  
{I've got to tell you what a state I'm in}  
  
{I've got to tell you in my loudest tones}  
  
{That I started looking for a warning sign}  
  
A subtle grin crept on his face. "The Groundlings" had no idea how good they were. Every note was perfect, but it wasn't the perfection that was key. Each member played their instruments or sang from the soul. Slow songs were comforting, as if sleeping in a hammock with the warm wind pushing you. Fast songs were energetic, a thousand people crammed in a room jumping.  
  
They came to the chorus, and Wesley set his pen down to enjoy the cover he personally preferred.  
  
{When the truth is}  
  
{I miss you}  
  
{Yeah, the truth is}  
  
{That I miss you so}  
  
Sucked into song, didn't notice the tickling at the back of his neck until the chorus ended. He itched at it, but it soon came back, followed by a peaceful feeling.  
  
{A warning sign}  
  
{You've come back to haunt me, and I realize}  
  
{That you were an item, and I passed you by}  
  
{That you were an item to discover}  
  
"Wesley . . . Wesley . . . come here," a voice whispered. It was a heavenly sound, something layered in tones and echoing almost magically.  
  
{Come on in}  
  
{I've got to tell you what a state I'm in}  
  
{I've got to tell you in my loudest tones}  
  
{That I started looking for a warning sign}  
  
Eyes rolled back as the man began to sway, hypnotized by not only the song, but by the voice.  
  
{When the truth is}  
  
{I miss you}  
  
{Yeah, the truth is}  
  
{That I miss you so}  
  
{And I'm tired}  
  
{I should not have let you go}  
  
Although his mind did not command, his body stood, and slowly walked towards the beckoning voice.  
  
{So I crawl back into your arms}  
  
{Yes I crawl back into your arms}  
  
It stopped him behind a large tree. Away from the eyes of the band, he felt an unearthly presence pass through his body, warming, then cooling.  
  
{So I crawl back into your arms}  
  
{Yes I crawl back into your arms}  
  
As soon as it started, it stopped. He snapped out of it, unaware of what had possessed him, and slightly forgetting why he was there.  
  
But, then he heard the final chords settle, and forgetting his uneasiness, headed back to the band.  
  
^^^^^^^^^^  
  
"Yo Awn, you went flat," Devon said, tightening the string on his guitar.  
  
With a horrified look, she removed her flip-flop and chucked it at the brunet.  
  
"Prove it!"  
  
Grinning, Devon turned to Wesley, who was just coming back from behind the tree. *Nature calls, I guess.*  
  
"Wes, did ya hear Awn sink flat?" he asked the man. But he was taken aback as he saw Wesley come closer.  
  
His normally clean-shaven face was suddenly growing with hair. Not just around the chin. Every single piece of skin was now covered in a dark brown, fur-like hair. Glancing down at his hands, Devon saw that, they too, were covered in hair.  
  
"What's the matter now?" inquired Wesley, clueless as to why the band was staring at him. He turned to see if something was standing behind him.  
  
It was at that moment when they saw them.  
  
Two long, pointed ears sticking out of the back of his head.  
  
Girls shrieked, and guys yelled. As quickly as they could, they grabbed their instruments, and ran away from the monster that was their manager.  
  
Wesley merely stood still, unsure of why they left so quickly, why they screamed, and why he had a sudden craving for hay.  
  
"Is something wrong?" he called out into the empty forest. Walking around in a circle, he asked the question again.  
  
But the second time, there was a response. Someone yawning.  
  
"Wow," sighed the lovely, but commanding voice, "Has anyone ever told you that you have a nice voice?"  
  
He turned towards the stranger.  
  
"Pardon?" 


	10. Out of This Wood Do Not Desire Go

Disclaimer: Well, I'm not feeling up to anything creative-wise in the disclaimer section. I own nothing Buffy the Vampire Slayer related. Joss Whedon does. And I don't own A Midsummer Night's Dream. William Shakespeare does. Or would, if he were alive today, or if his family has publishing rights. Oh, and I don't own anything relating to the movie version. Everything I own is crappy/ lame. No need to feel sorry, because my life is terrible.  
  
*  
  
Rating: PG-13- Naughtiness by the Bard  
  
* Summary: 100% AU! Magic? Mistaken identity? Fairies? True love? And . . . donkey lovin'? BTVS meets Shakespeare's A Midsummer Night's Dream! * Author's Notes: I would like to apologize extensively for the long delay. But, as many of you writers know, real life can interfere, and mine interfered like a bitch. In the course of two months, I had to deal with ridiculous projects, including one that, if I didn't finish, would prohibit me from graduating. Then, I got cast in my school's spring play, given the hardest role imaginable. Somehow, I also got involved in the whole anti-war thing, but we won't get into that. At the same time, I'm being forced to look for a job, get things ready for my move to college in the fall, while keeping my GPA high so I don't loose my scholarships. And, if that isn't enough, my school choir was getting ready for our state competition (in which we took fourth place, so forgive my happy dance). But, things have calmed down, and the only thing I have to worry about is finals, and the many senior parties going on in the next month. So, writing, after a long delay, will continue. Thank you for waiting, and caring (kisses to Imzadi) * PS: I am crying for the upcoming series finale of BTVS, and still from the season finale of Angel. But, I will keep writing even when the show goes off the air. That's why Goddess invented syndicated TV. * * * * *  
  
*  
  
Chapter Ten- Out of This Wood Do Not Desire Go  
  
Queen Cordelia's eyes fluttered, smiling coyly at the gorgeous creature before her.  
  
*Tall, dark, handsome, with a great taste in clothes, beautiful blue eyes, long ears, and chocolate-brown fur . . . what else could a girl want?*  
  
"I said you have a really nice voice. You know, you should really look into doing those books on tape." Feeling bashful, she lowered herself onto the branch, letting her arms and legs drape over as she watched the beautiful-  
  
*Human? Or is he an animal?* For a moment, she examined the thing. He wore the same clothes and held himself the way a man would, but the whole donkey ears and nose left a question.  
  
*Oh, who the hell cares! He's here, and he's MINE!*  
  
"So," she seductively whispered, "You have a name?"  
  
Still clueless, the guy took a few steps backwards. "Um . . . Wesley. W- Wesley Price."  
  
As he spoke, the human (?) took on a formal manner, which struck the queen instantly. *So, he also knows how to act in front of royalty. Is he the most perfect man in the world, or what?*  
  
At that moment, he seemed to regain his senses. "Well, it was wonderful speaking to you, but as of this moment, I have to go catch my band." He started to turn around, eager to leave. "So, I have to say-"  
  
"Ooh, you're in a band?" she asked, her eyes lighting up.  
  
Wesley froze. "A-Actually, no. I am the manager of the band, the Groundlings. Have you heard of them . . ." he trailed off, knowing there was no possible way the crazy lady knew the local group.  
  
"Manager." Her brow furrowed, a bit disappointed that he wasn't a rock star. From what she knew, musicians were very sexy. But her face lit up as she continued. "You're a manager? That means you have to be really smart."  
  
This took Wesley back. Like all men, he loved inflating his ego. "Why . . . yes, that's true. I am considered exceedingly intelligent for a person in my year. I got a 1350 on my SAT's . . ."  
  
"That's so cool," sighed Cordelia.  
  
From what she knew, smart men were very sexy.  
  
" . . . And I was actually offered a full ride from Harvard and Yale, but decided to go to the University of Sunnydale because they had an excellent business department. I've made the Dean's list every term, and am regarded in the department as- I don't mean to sound pigheaded- as the-"  
  
"That's GREAT!" Cordelia silenced the man with an upraised hand. This Wesley guy may be a hottie, but he talked way too much.  
  
"Yes." He reverted back to the uncomfortable feeling, wondering why a beautiful, and possibly crazy, woman in a tree was staring at him. It was like she was starving, and he was a cheeseburger.  
  
"So, Mr. Price, I'm sure you find this whole situation ironic," she said, slipping down off the branches and landing on the ground with cat-like ease.  
  
Eyes bugging out slightly, Wesley began to carefully move away from the woman. "How so?" he choked out, his voice catching in his throat.  
  
Cordelia smiled. "You're incredibly hot, just like me."  
  
"How exactly is that ironic?" asked the man, his brow furrowing as he tried to figure that out.  
  
That caught Cordelia. Frowning, she began to chew on her lower lip, deep in thought.  
  
Taking advantage of her pensive state, Wesley turned around and began to high tail himself away from the woman.  
  
Seeing this, Cordelia immediately summoned her guards and servants, ordering them to catch her love.  
  
Wesley attempted to dodge between the trees, but was caught instantly by a hand. Dragged in by his ears, he was immediately back in the clearing.  
  
Thanking Lindsay the elf, Cordelia immediately wrapped her arms around Wesley's furry neck.  
  
"God, you're just like every man," she sighed, beginning to pet him softly. "You admit that you like a person, but as soon as it's time to make a commitment, you run off."  
  
He was taken aback. "I never admitted that I liked-"  
  
"It doesn't need to be spoken, honey. I can see the adoration in your eyes. You don't have to worry. I will love you for all eternity, and you will never have to leave your new home. We'll be together, forever."  
  
Attempting another escape, Wesley began to struggle, but the crazy bohemian Fleetwood Mac worshipper had a death-grip on him.  
  
"Do you require anything, your majesty?" a voice asked. Wesley turned his head towards the voice. It belonged to Dawn. He began to study her outfit, his eyes taking on the size of dinner plates when he noticed the wings on her back.  
  
*Fairy wings!*  
  
"Yes Dawn," she answered. "I need for you to get this handsome visitor some clean clothes, and anything he wishes to eat."  
  
"Right away, Queen Cordelia."  
  
Dawn and Tara ran off, quick as lightning.  
  
"Anything I can do for you, your majesty?" Asked Lindsay timidly.  
  
"I need for you to guard the surrounding per- per-"  
  
"Perimeter?"  
  
A loud sigh erupted from her throat. "Yeah, the perimeter. Make sure You- Know-Who doesn't come around apologizing. I'm going to have my hands full with this one." She pointed a finger towards Wesley, stunned to statue-like proportions as he studied Lindsay's large, pointy ears.  
  
As soon as he left, the other fairies came back, jeweled fabrics and food overflowing from their hands. Wesley found himself strangely drooling over the plate heaped with golden sweet hay.  
  
"You two get him dressed and fed," ordered the queen. "When he's done, bring him to my room."  
  
"Right away, your majesty."  
  
Dawn went right to work, stripping the cheep suit off of his body without hesitation, but Tara was pulled away when Cordelia grabbed her arm.  
  
"Could you do something special for me?" whispered Cordelia.  
  
Nodding in response, Tara waited for the order.  
  
"Make sure he comes to my room silently. He talks way too much. I hate it when you can't get a word in edgewise." 


	11. Lord, What Fools These Mortals Be!

Disclaimer: Well, I'm not feeling up to anything creative-wise in the disclaimer section. I own nothing Buffy the Vampire Slayer related. Joss Whedon does. And I don't own A Midsummer Night's Dream. William Shakespeare does. Or would, if he were alive today, or if his family has publishing rights. Oh, and I don't own anything relating to the movie version. Everything I own is crappy/ lame. No need to feel sorry, because my life is terrible.  
  
*  
  
Rating: PG-13- Naughtiness by the Bard  
  
* Summary: 100% AU! Magic? Mistaken identity? Fairies? True love? And . . . donkey lovin'? BTVS meets Shakespeare's A Midsummer Night's Dream! * Author's Notes: Yes, I am alive. I am so sorry that I haven't updated in, like, forever. But, with enough poking and prodding from certain people, I post again. I'm not going to be a prick, and post this chapter, and then wait another few months before I get to it again. This story will be finished before Christmas. Anyway, I hope you enjoy, and that you don't pelt me with various pieces of rotten fruit because I am a bad person. That's what I have my real-world friends to do. If you don't hate me, please read and review. I promise you'll like it. * PS: Happy now, Imzadi? I love you, darling. * * * * *  
  
*  
  
Chapter Eleven- Lord, What Fools These Mortals Be!  
  
Royally bored, King Xander chucked a rock into the pond. He had been waiting hours (technically, a half-hour) to hear from Willow and find out if their schemes had gone well. Although he was shaking with anticipation to find out what Queen Cordelia had gone and fallen in love with, he knew that he had to wait it out, and hear from his elf.  
  
Throwing two more rocks into the large pond, watching the ripples of the water grow in the moonlight. For someone as wise as him, who had existed since the beginning of time, and who had seen all of the greatest events of history and nature occur, he always took pleasure in those simple, beautiful, things.  
  
Yeah, he was bored out of his mind.  
  
Suddenly, he could hear someone approach. They were singing, and it sounded like some obscure tune from the 1970's that always brought joy to the hearts of the mortals.  
  
It was his faithful, if sometimes off-key, Willow.  
  
"So, how'd it go?" asked the king before Willow had a chance to relax.  
  
He could be, at times, a complete asshole. And she had no intention of treating him like the child he was acting like. "How'd what go?"  
  
"Did the charms work?"  
  
Sighing, Willow shrugged her shoulders, and took a seat on one of the large rocks, looking over the dark waters.  
  
"Willow?"  
  
Although he spoke lighter, she could still hear that demanding undertone. Holding up her hand, she began to examine her cuticles, and ignored King Xander when he sat next to her.  
  
"Willow," he pleaded, "Would you be the bestest elf in the world and tell me if the spell worked on the Queen? Please, please, please please-"  
  
"FINE!" she cut in before the fifth "please". "The poppy juice worked. She's under its power."  
  
"And what did she fall in love with?"  
  
Grinning wildly, Willow leaned over and whispered into her King's ear. Once she was done, she pulled away to see his reaction.  
  
At first, his face was stone, figuring out what this meant. Ever so slightly, a small smile peaked out on the corners of his mouth.  
  
"Seriously?"  
  
Willow only grinned.  
  
King Xander stood up and walked closer to the edge of the lake, his hands clasped behind his back. For a moment, he stared at the water.  
  
"This is . . ." he began, turning back to Willow, "Way better than I could have hoped for."  
  
Both laughed heartily, although Willow's may have been less joyful.  
  
"So," the King continued, "What about that mortal guy."  
  
His question was answered by two voices screaming at each other, both of them heading in the direction of King Xander and the elf.  
  
"Angel!" screamed the more feminine of the voices, and a young blonde woman emerged from the brush. "Tell me what you did with Spike!"  
  
"Oh, because that would make it easier for you, wouldn't it, Buffy?" The other one belonged to a tall brunette man, the mortal King Xander wanted cursed.  
  
"Willow," King Xander whispered, "Isn't that the guy I asked you to take care of?"  
  
"No, that's the girl, but I have no idea who that guy is . . . "  
  
Willow could see the words exit her mouth, every single letter shinning in the moonlight, and as the came out, she only wished she could pull them back in.  
  
*Oh, shit!*  
  
The girl came to stop at the water's edge. She was wrapping a black leather coat around her body, trying to shield her skin from the cooler night air. Angel, the man she had been yelling at, followed her.  
  
"Alright, Angel, I'm not going to ask why you're here, or how the hell you knew where to find me." Buffy, the girl, began to cry, tiny tears trickling down her cheeks. "I just want to know where Spike is."  
  
Laughing, Angel sat down on the large rock, mere inches away from the now- invisible immortals.  
  
"He probably ditched you."  
  
Buffy, fire glinting in her teary eyes, stormed over to him, and grabbed the collar of his shirt, pulling him up to her.  
  
"Did you hurt him?"  
  
"What?"  
  
She laughed bitterly. "Don't play these stupid games with me! I'm not the child you and Daddy think I am!"  
  
Angel shrugged her away, his eyes watching her every move as she backed away.  
  
"Could've fooled me. All I see is a scared little girl who doesn't know what's going on."  
  
That fire in Buffy's eyes turned to ice, and she looked nothing like the sweet, funny girl he had known in high school. This young woman, dress wrinkled, hair mussed with little bits of grass clinging to it, seemed capable of something dangerous.  
  
"You're not stupid, although you can dress like it sometimes," she said with a sneer, glaring at the outfit, which was an exact copy of her father's. "If all goes according to Daddy's plan, we'll be married before New Year's. I'll try as hard as I can to fight it, and so will Spike. But, just let me tell you, if that apocalypse ever happens, one of us will be dead in the morning."  
  
Flipping some of her loose hair behind her shoulder, Buffy stormed back off into the forest.  
  
Angel stood, prepared to follow.  
  
"STAY!" bellowed King Xander, his face turning purple.  
  
The young man's movements froze, his whole body turning to stone at the King's magical command.  
  
Her eyes wide, Willow tried to sink back into the rock.  
  
"What just happened here?" asked the King, turning to glare at Willow.  
  
Willow uncomfortably smiled, knowing she was in deep trouble.  
  
"Sorry," she muttered through her clenched teeth.  
  
Standing, King Xander began to circle the young man, studying him carefully.  
  
"Do I ask for a lot?" he asked.  
  
"This isn't a trick question?"  
  
King Xander only stared at her.  
  
"Kinda."  
  
"I-" he faltered, replaying her response in his head. "That's not funny."  
  
Groaning, King Xander once again took his seat next to Willow.  
  
"The human couple. I said, 'Look for the only humans in the forest.' That wasn't that hard of a command."  
  
Outraged, Willow leapt up.  
  
"Yeah, like that's not vague. That's about as helpful as asking me to find . . . well, something really common, I don't have a good example."  
  
Standing up as well, King Xander began to rub the sides of his forehead. "Just go bring that girl back. But first, try to find the other guy and girl. We have to fix this up."  
  
Willow rolled her eyes, yet she shot off as quickly as she could.  
  
Once the redhead left, King Xander took the immobilizing spell off Angel. The mortal shook his head, unsure of what happened.  
  
"Sleep," whispered the King in Angel's ear. Suddenly, the human's eyes felt droopy, and the only way he could relieve it was to collapse on the shore. He was asleep before his head hit the sand.  
  
A few poppies remained with King Xander, tucked away safely in his belt. He removed one of the prettier ones, and dropped a bit of the juice on Angel's closed eyelids.  
  
As soon as he had finished the deed, he heard Willow calling back to him.  
  
"Here they come! I'm going to go find that Bunny-girl, and I'll bring her back!"  
  
One screaming female, the one King Xander had taken pity on, and the guy who had been accidentally charmed by Willow, came crashing out of the forest, both yelling at the top of their lungs.  
  
"Great," moaned the King, "This is going to be a great night." 


End file.
